


pastries and perfect smiles.

by turnaboutcafe



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Chefs, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Bakery, Baking, Chefs, Cookies, Cute, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Meet-Cute, Modern Royalty, Princes & Princesses, Romantic Fluff, Royalty, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25915342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnaboutcafe/pseuds/turnaboutcafe
Summary: akaashi keiji, crown prince of japan, just wants to learn how to bake a cookie.and when head chef and bakery extraordinaire bokuto koutarou waltzes into his life with a silver platter and chocolate chip cookies in hand during his etiquette lesson, akaashi finds that he finds himself with more than just a lesson on cookie baking.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 6
Kudos: 131





	pastries and perfect smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> bokuaka week, day 9: royalty and baking

“Why are three different sets of forks and spoons necessary to eat, Kuroo-san?”

Kuroo was seated in front of Akaashi, the table between them perfectly decorated and set up with what Akaashi thought was an obscene and wasteful amount of plates and cutlery. To his right, there were three different sets of spoons and to his left, an equal amount of forks in matching shapes and sizes. What was even more baffling was the amount of knives that were placed parallel to him in front of his dish, which didn’t even have any real food in it.

“It’s royal etiquette, Akaashi-san,” Kuroo replied. “If you’re the crown prince, the first thing you should learn is how to eat fine dining properly.”

“Shouldn’t I be learning the politics and how to make decisions first?” Akaashi asked, incredulous. “Why should fine dining come first?”

Kuroo shut his eyes, forcibly painting a serene look on his face. “It’s about the discipline.”

Frankly, Akaashi didn’t see how discipline could come about from simply learning how to use cutlery properly.

“But,” Kuroo continued, “if you’re so insistent on having an interesting class on etiquette, I called in someone interesting to make this more interesting.”

As if on cue, the large doors to the royal room opened, a sea of perfectly dressed butlers entering the room, carrying plates upon plates of pastries. Behind them, adorned in a typical chef’s costume, a man with dual colored hair appeared, a large smile on his face as he carried his own plate of cake. Each one of the desserts, perfectly garnished and baked to perfection, were placed on the large table next to where Kuroo and Akaashi sat, compact as they attempted to squeeze everything into one place.

“Why do we need this much—”

“Let me introduce to you, Bokuto,” Kuroo smiled, pointing towards the chef. “He’s the head chef of the kitchen, though he evidently specializes more in sweet stuff.”

“‘Sweet stuff’,” Bokuto snorted. “Kuroo, it’s called _pastries_.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes, the camaraderie between the two evident.

“Anyway,” Kuroo continued, “we’ll be conducting the class with some of the food he cooked.”

“ _Pastries_ ,” Bokuto interjected, quickly met by a huff from Kuroo. 

Akaashi began eating, gently holding the smallest spoon in his hand to dig into the cake. Before he could even get to cutting a piece of the cake to eat, Kuroo stopped him, a hand on his wrist to prevent him from using the tiny spoon.

“You’re not supposed to use a spoon, Akaashi,” he sighed, handing him the tiny fork instead.

“They accomplish the same purpose, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi pointed out, but Kuroo waved him off.

“We can’t have the crown prince of Japan ridiculed in an official meeting because he didn’t know what to use to eat his cake!”

And so, Akaashi took the fork in Kuroo’s hand, angling it sideways to cut the cake. But, before the fork even touched the cake, Kuroo stopped him again, shaking his head as he picked up his own fork.

“You’re not supposed to cut it horizontally,” Kuroo chided, giving him a demonstration on his own piece of cake. “Vertically; it’s neater that way.”

If the knives were sharp enough, Akaashi would’ve thrown one in Kuroo’s direction.

But, obediently, he copied Kuroo’s actions, both Bokuto and Kuroo watching him closely as he cut the cake. Finally, Kuroo nodded in satisfaction, motioning for Akaashi to eat the cake. Akaashi ate a tiny piece from the fork in small bites, only to be interrupted by Kuroo.

Again.

“You can’t just eat tiny pieces of it, Akaashi!” he complained. “The crumbs will get everywhere; you should immediately eat the whole piece!”

“Will they really pay attention, Kuroo-san?”

“Of course they will!”

Begrudgingly, Akaashi ate it as Kuroo indicated for him to.

Once he finished the piece, one of the butlers took away the cake, already placing the next food item in front of him. This time, it was some sort of fancy looking pudding that Akaashi couldn’t even begin to imagine what its name was (though he suspected that it was likely some unpronounceable French word), and sighed.

Looks like he was going to mess up eating fancy pudding another three times.

“C’mon Kuroo, just let him eat,” Bokuto interjected before Kuroo could say another word about Akaashi (probably) picking up the wrong utensil for the umpteenth time. “He’s been at classes the whole day with you watching like a crow; the least you could’ve done was let him be at the kitchen and actually watch us cook! Even I use a spoon to eat cake sometimes and the princess of France doesn’t come after me.”

“How would she come after you if you spend your whole day in the kitchen?” Kuroo grumbled.

“Potato-potato,” Bokuto said, as if it answered Kuroo’s question. Despite the nonsensical answer that wasn’t even a joke, Akaashi stifled a laugh.

“Fine,” Kuroo sighed. “Just this pudding, and then we’re getting back to the actual class that we were conducting before you barged in.

Without waiting, in fear of Kuroo changing his mind, Akaashi took a medium sized spoon and began taking bit s of the pudding to eat. It tasted heavenly, suce creamy smooth and perfectly roasted, tasting slightly of nuts. The pudding itself was soft, as pillowy and sweet as Akaashi had expected it to be, the taste spreading across his tongue beautifully. The rare taste of sweetness entered his palate, relishing in it as it continued to linger for several moments, even after the pudding was already missing.

“That was… exquisite,” Akaashi murmured, ensuring that he used the formal word Kuroo had ‘bullied’ him into using the previous day. “It was baked well.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto smiled, wide and toothy at Akaashi. “Do you see that, Kuroo? He liked it!”

“As if you weren’t hired here specifically because you were the best cook in Japan,” Kuroo mumbled. “Keep your voice down too; you’re in the presence of royalty.”

“I don’t mind—” Akaashi began, only for Kuroo to cut him off.

“Rules, Akaashi-san.”

Mutely, Akaashi nodded.

The day continued, Kuroo placing all manner of desserts and meals in front of him, teaching him how to each one properly before he made the butler take it away, placing another dish in front of him in replacement. Akaashi sighed, only being able to take one bite of each of the perfectly prepared dishes before it was taken away from him. Bokuto, sitting in a corner of the room, watched as Akaashi’s face twisted and turned in a mixture of surprise and pleasure as he ate each one of the dishes, a soft smile appearing on his face as he expressed pleasure at each dish.

It almost looked cute.

“This is the final dish,” Kuroo motioned, signalling for a butler to bring in the last plate. It was covered by a dish cover, curiosity piquing in Akaashi, a silent question in the air of what the dish was. Kuroo looked equally curious, eyeing the metal cover.

Slowly, the butler opened it, revealing—

“Chocolate chip cookies?” Kuroo asked, turning to look at Bokuto. “I specifically asked you to make the last dish something exquisite, and you chose _chocolate chip cookies_?”

“Don’t hate on them,” Bokuto grumbled. “I’m known for making the best chocolate chip cookies in all of Japan!”

“Only because you exclusively baked chocolate chip cookies before your restaurant took off.”

“They’re good, okay?!”

Akaashi eyed the chocolate chip cookies curiously, looking at them. They looked exactly like ones he’d seen in movies, perfectly crinkled and pockets of chocolate covering it, slightly oozy, melted perfectly. Sprinkles of seasalt sat on top of the cookies, perfectly garnishing it. The presentation itself was simple, the cookies merely placed on the plate with no sort of add-on to it. Yet, it looked like the best dish that had been presented to him that day.

“Akaashi-sama,” Bokuto began, “do you like chocolate chip cookies?”

Akaashi paused, biting his lip before he answered. “I don’t think I’ve had a chocolate chip cookie before.”

Bokuto paused, looking at him with large eyes. “You’ve never had chocolate chip cookies before?”

Akaashi shook his head, and Bokuto turned to look at Kuroo with the same bugged out expression he held at Akaashi.

“You’re telling me this child has not had chocolate chip cookies before?”

“Bokuto, he’s only one year younger than you,” Kuroo sighed. “But yes, he’s never had chocolate chip cookies before.”

_Ah,_ Akaashi’s mind mumbled, slightly frazzled. _So he’s only one year older than me._

“This is an injustice!” Bokuto complained, immediately badgered by Kuroo to keep his voice down. “Here, Akaashi, you have to try.”

Bokuto approached the plate, breaking off a piece of the cookie and placing it in front of Akaashi’s face. At the bold gesture, Akaashi’s face heated up slightly, hidden behind the forced stoicness of his gaze.

Gently, he opened his mouth, taking the outstretched cookie into it.

As Akaashi chewed, his eyes widened.

The cookie was exquisite, perfectly salted, sugary taste mingling with the deep richness of the pockets of chocolate. It was perfectly textured, crunchy yet soft, enveloping his taste buds in richness. At the taste, nothing like any of the expensive dishes he’s had before, his eyes widened, looking at Bokuto with a small expression of awe creeping on his face.

“That was… amazing.”

“‘Exquisite’,” Kuroo interjected, correcting Akaashi’s use of informal register. “The king and queen won’t be happy if they knew we served you a chocolate chip cookie, they expressly told me only to give you desserts from a specified list…”

“You know, Akaashi-sama,” Bokuto said, a mischievous smile coming onto his face as he winked at Akaashi. “You could always just sneak into the kitchen if you want another one of those.”

“Nothing like that will happen,” Kuroo growled, making shooing gestures at the chef while Bokuto laughed, sound twinkling in the air. “We will be sticking strictly to the king and queen’s rules.”

“Of course, of course.”

Without another word, Bokuto was off, the rest of the butlers following him out of the door.

Kuroo continued his lecture, informing Akaashi of all the dishes that would be coming the next day. Yet, Akaashi could barely focus on Kuroo’s words as he stared off into space, the lecture blending into the silence of the air as Akaashi thought. Kuroo’s words didn’t reach him as his mind conjured images of the handsome, smiling baker again, laughter replaying in his mind, twinkling like the sound of stars.

And even as Kuroo left, leaving Akaashi to his devices with a reminder on the time of his next class, Akaashi could think of nothing but pastries.

(And Bokuto’s perfect smile).  
  


* * *

  
  
“Kuroo-sn,” Akaashi began, voice tentative as he sat in front of Kuroo for their next class of the day. “Don’t you think I should learn how to cook?”

Kuroo’s eyebrows quirked upwards, an amused smile on his face as he looked at Akaashi. “Akaashi-san, you’re the crown prince of Japan. Unless the whole country gets obliterated and no one else remains in Japan, you’ll likely never have to cook for yourself.”

“But if that happens,” Akaahi pressed, “or if I’m stranded in a deserted island—”

“Where is this coming from, Akaashi-san?” Kuroo asked, amusement evident in his voice. “For the past 19 years, you’ve seemed quite content about the food you’ve gotten from the royal cooks; are they not good enough?”

“Ah, not… not exactly,” Akaashi replied, swerving from Kuroo’s question. The moment Kuroo’s question left his lips, afterall, the image of Bokuto teaching him how to bake chocolate chip cookies seeped into his mind.

“Let’s leave this topic for another time,” Kuroo resolved, turning to the door. “Ah, the food for today is here.”

As had happened the previous day, butlers began to walk into the room, trays filled to the brim with foodstuff that Akaashi couldn’t even begin to name. Kuroo watch, satisfied as the table next to them grew compact with trays of food, nodding in satisfaction. Bokuto, behind all the butlers, carried his own tray, covered with the save metal semi-sphere Akaashi had seen the previous day.

He briefly wondered if it was chocolate chip cookies.

“We’re going to be reviewing the etiquette rules you learned,” Kuroo began, eyes sharpening as he caught Akaashi sighing under his breath. “Yes, the etiquette rules that involve the three sets of forks, spoons and knives.”

“Is that all?” Akaashi asked, tone polite, yet filled with confidence. He’d expected something like this to happen, hence why he studied to no end the previous night—

“But you won’t be dining with me,” Kuroo continued. “You eat with me in your presence nearly daily, so we’ll be changing who you dine with.”

Akaashi’s eyebrows furrowed. Who could they have gotten to eat with him?

“Bokuto will be the one who dines with you,” Kuroo smiled. “Maybe he’ll teach you a thing or two about cooking and baking chocolate chip cookies.”

Akaashi’s face burned at Kuroo’s words, hiding his face behind a napkin in a fake cough as Bokuto replaced Kuroo in his seat.

He was slightly taller than Akaashi, and much more relaxed as he requested the butlers to bring in an array of dishes. At his command, a tray of some sort of weird, thick soup came, settled in front of the two. Akaashi swallowed, taking the smallest spoon into his hand (which he knew was _definitely_ used for soup), slowly dipping it into what looked like mushroom soup.

“How was your day, Akaashi-sama?” Bokuto asked, looking at Akaashi as he copied his movements with the spoon. “It must be tiring, having to be a prince.”

“I apologize, you can just call me Akaashi,” Akaashi began, skin prickling uncomfortably at the formal way the chf was addressing him. “You’re older than me.”

“Rules of addressing royalty,” Bokuto shrugged.

“I doubt Kuroo will snitch on you,” Akaashi replied, turning to Kuroo for confirmation. Despite the scrunch of his nose for Akaashi’s informal word choice, he nodded.

“Akaashi, then,” Bokuto smiled. “How was your day?”

Akaashi’s fingers trembled in the slightest as he picked up the soup in his spoon, gently placing it into his mouth. It tasted like roasted wild mushrooms.

“Just… normal,” Akaashi continued, wiping his mouth with a napkin yet again to hide the burning of his cheeks (though he doubted they were actually pink). “Went to the usual classes.”

“Usual classes?”

“Horseback riding, archery, foreign language, politics,” Akaashi listed off, taking another spoonful of the rustic tasting soup. “Just the normal classes that I always go to everyday.”

“I doubt that horseback riding, archery, foreign language and politics are normal classes for a nineteen year old to be taking,” Bokuto laughed, mellifluous. At the sound of twinkling stars, Akaashi’s heart skipped a beat. “When I was nineteen, I was making chocolate chip cookies for the restaurant that my parents owned.”

Akaashi paused. “Why did you decide to work at the royal palace?”

“Why?” Bokuto laughed. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s good pay, I get to work in a large kitchen too.”

Bokuto’s tone dropped in the slightest, sending a wink towards Akaashi.

“And I get to see the crown prince at his etiquette classes almost daily.”

Akaashi nearly choked on his water at the attractive smirk Bokuto gave him.

“Stop flirting with Akaashi-san,” Kuroo chided, sending a light smack at Bokuto’s head. “You’re supposed to be here to assess his cutlery-usage skills.”

Bokuto frowned. “Fine, fine.”

The rest of the meal passed by without event, the only moments Akaashi had burned inside his memory were the ones where Bokuto had lowered his voice, sending him a low toned compliment just out of Kuroo’s hearing. Each time, Akaashi’s face burned, coughing on his water to hide the redness of his cheeks behind the napkin he’d been provided.

At their last dish, Akaashi picked up the smallest spoon again, slowly scooping up the pudding he’d been presented with, chewing it slowly. Kuroo looked at him in satisfaction, nodding.

“I think that you’ve gotten through everything without mistake,” Kuroo nodded, inspecting the notes he had in his hand. “We’ll periodically have these tests, so don’t simply decide to slack off on your knowledge on etiquette; it’s important, especially during official meetings with other members of royalty.”

Akaashi nodded, and Kuroo looked at his watch.

“Since you’ve already eaten, I doubt that we’ll need to request another meal for your lunch, Akaashi-san. You’re free to do whatever you wish to, though I have to attend another errand. I will take my leave now.”

As quickly as he had said all that, Kuroo scampered out of the room, the array of butlers following suit, bringing out the now dirtied and emptied dishes out of the room. Akaashi simply sat in his chair, and after several moments, the only people left in the room were himself and Bokuto.

“How do you stand living under that amount of pressure?” Bokuto laughed, standing up from his chair. Akaashi mirrored him, placing his napkin away. “I think I would’ve run away if I had Kuroo watching my every move daily.”

“I can see how you’ll think that,” Akaashi smiled, sitting on a sofa in an opposite corner of the large room. “Will you be going now?”

Bokuto frowned. “I don’t have any meals to cook right now; the king and queen are away, and you’ve already had your meal, so i don’t believe I have to go.”

A beat.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Akaashi sat, heart beating as he looked at the chef, his fingers running through his hair. For a moment, he pondered it, biting his lower lip gently.

“If you’re not going to answer, I’ll choose,” Bokuto laughed.

“Please stay, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi nodded.

“Please don’t call me that,” Bokuto laughed. “You’re royalty, you shouldn’t be addressing me so formally; if anything, I should be calling you with honorifics.”

“I apologize, it’s a force of habit,” Akaashi grimaced. “I feel uncomfortable addressing people in any other way.”

“Then address me however you want,” Bokuto laughed, taking a seat next to Akaashi. They were nearly brushing each other, Akaashi’s skin prickling at even the slightest contact.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto smiled, staring up into space. “Kuroo told me you wanted to learn how to make chocolate chip cookies.”

Akaashi stiffened. “Did he?”

_When did he even have time to tell him that?_

“Yep!” he smiled, crossing one leg across his knee. “But he came at me, telling me that I couldn’t teach you how to because the king would have his head off for letting you go to the kitchen. ‘We can’t have him injured!’”

The last words were said in a perfect imitation of his mentor, Bokuto putting his hands to his head to mimic the rooster-like shape of the man’s hair. Without hesitation, Akaashi let slip a laugh.

“I can still teach you someday, you know,” Bokuto laughed, turning to face Akaashi, hand supporting his head against the sofa.

“I can’t enter the kitchen, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi smiled. “You know that.”

Bokuto’s voice dropped to a whisper, looking around the room for a moment, as if checking for cameras or surveillance. “You know, you could always sneak in at midnight; I can teach you anytime.”

Bokuto’s voice ghosted his ears, a low, mischievous whisper. At his low tone, Akaashi’s limbs stiffened, electricity running through him, a blush coming across his cheeks. A low giggle followed Bokuto’s whisper, still leaning close to Akaashi, breath tickling his skin.

“Is it a deal, Akaashi?” Bokuto murmured. 

Akaashi had to grip the sofa to prevent himself from combusting. “Y-Yes, Bokuto-san.”

Like what he had done was completely normal, Bokuto spaced himself from Akaashi, smiling widely. “It’s a deal, then! I’ll see you later, then.”

Bokuto stood up from where he sat, slowly moving away to move towards the door, shutting the exit slowly behind him.

At his exit, Akaashi buried his face in a nearby sofa pillow, screaming as loudly as he could.

This could not be happening.  
  


* * *

  
  
Akaashi padded quietly through the hallways, footsteps slow in fear of waking anyone who was currently asleep. Bokuto had told him the exact route to the kitchen, adding in tips on which floorboards not to step on due to the rundown, rickety nature of some of the steps. It was ironic, Akaashi reflected, that a royal palace ould have rickety steps like an old cottage.

Slowly, he found his way to the door Bokuto had told him about, the front of the mtal barrier labelled with the word ‘kitchen’ in large letters. Silently, he pushed in the door, gentle.

As he stepped into the kitchen, he blinked several times, the darkness around him disorienting. He could see nothing in the pitch balck, the only thing surrounding him the darkness, and his own consciousness.

“Bokuto-san?”

Akaashi took several tentative steps forward, skin prickling in the fear of stepping on something, or stepping into something.

The silence continued to overwhelm him, surrounding him completely, until—

“Are you lost, Akaashi?”

A voice came from behind him, a low whisper. Akaashi jolted in shock, the lights coming on immediately. Behind him, Bokuto was clutching his stomach, bouts of laughter coming from him as Akaashi slowly fell onto the floor, hand on his heart, still beating erratically from the shock of the whisper. Bokuto’s laughters, despite being cackles, were melodic in Akaashi’s ear, corners of his eyes tearing up from how amusing the situation was.

“Why…” Akaashi mumbled, still out of breath from the shock, “would you do that?”

Bokuto smiled, pure. “I wanted to see your reaction.”

At the upward quirk of Bokuto’s lips, Akaashi’s seething annoyance didn’t last for long.

“Chocolate chip cookies, right?” Bokuto asked, gently motioning for Akaashi to stand up. “The part of the kitchen with the baking supplies is in the back, we should go there!”

Bokuto gently led Akaashi by the wrist, leading him to the back of the kitchen.

The baking section of the kitchen was clearly well invested in, the marble countertops shining under the bright lights of the room, the fridges tall and strong, some of them even having technological functions on the front with screens and options for crushed and cubed ice. Despite the exterior coldness of the design, there were several evident touches of love throughout the room, seen in the scrawl of encouraging post-it notes and smiley faces written on the whiteboard in the room next to the meal plan for the royal family.

“It’s cool, right?” Bokuto enthused, gesturing to the ingredients set out on the table. “I took them out beforehand so you can do all the baking without having to measure.”

Akaashi nodded, gently tying an apron behind his back as Bokuto prepared a pot over the stove, slowly putting it on low heat. Akaashi approached him, curiosity piquing as he looked at the pot, now with several cubes of butter in it, melting gently.

“Here, Akaashi,” Bokuto said, handing him a brightly colored spatula. “Keep mixing it, or it’ll burn!”

Akaashi nodded, gently mixing the butter, trying his hardest to let it melt evenly. As he did, a sort of caramelly scent came from the melting butter, the golden liquid slowly beginning to turn darker than the pale form it held whilst in cubes, the fumes coming from it enticing.

“Akaashi, you have to stir it in a way that you also take the butter that’s sticking on the side,” Bokuto pointed out, finger extended as he pointed at the liquid that was still on the sides, beginning to burn slightly.

At Bokuto’s words, he extended a hand, as if to take the spatula from him. Instinctively, Akaashi moved away to let Bokuto take his place, but before he could, Bokuto held the spatula from above Akaashi’s hand, the gentle warmth of his larger palm engulfing Akaashi. Without a word, he put his other hand on the portion of the stove beside Akaashi’s waist, almost trapping him between his own body and the stove.

At the motion, Akaashi stiffened, the warmth of Bokuto behind him almost like a hug from the back. His hands were gentle as he held his own, gently stirring the spatula with his own gentle strength bringing down some of the butter from the sides of the pot, melting it evenly, moving around the liquid to check on the toasting milk solids on the bottom of the pot.

“Akaashi?” Bokuto murmured, voice low, breath gentle against Akaashi’s ear. “You still have to stir, you know.”

Akaashi heart skipped a beat.

“Right,” Akaashi mumbled out, gently stirring the butter, Bokuto’s hand still over his. 

For long moments, they simply stood there. It seemed domestic, Akaashi reflected, to experience a half back hug whilst melting butter over a stove, yet it made his heart go crazy. The gentleness of his touch, the warmth of his body against him in the hug that wasn’t a hug, the soft tickling of his breath against Akaashi’s face, sending shivers down his body as Bokuto spoke. 

Even if it likely only lasted five minutes, to Akaashi, it felt like forever.

“Alright,” Bokuto said, drawing away from Akaashi. “You can put the butter into this measuring cup, and we’ll get to the next step.”

Akaashi nodded, pouring the liquid into the cup Bokuto had indicated. Bokuto had moved to the kitchen island again, beginning to place into a bowl a mixture of white and brown sugars, mixing them lightly with a whisk. Despite the laziness in the way he mixed the two ingredients, the way his wrists and arms moved displayed his experience, the ease in which he did it attractive.

“Pour the butter here, Akaashi,” Bokuto instructed, moving slightly to let Akaashi pour the now toasted, browned butter into the bowl. As he did, Bokuto handed him the whisk.

“Just mix it.”

For several moments, only silence filled the air as Akaashi whisked the sugar and butter together, Bokuto next to him to watch his progress. He was close, nearly brushing him as he did that morning on the sofa, eyes gentle as he watched Akaashi bake.

“How often do you make cookies, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked, continuing his vigorous whisk of the ingredients.

“Twice a week?” Bokuto replied, the end of his words almost like a question. “I make some whenever I run out of cookies to eat.”

Akaashi sighed. “It must be nice to be able to eat them daily.”

“Really?” Bokuto asked, moving closer to Akaashi, watching the mixing process from behind him, head hovering at the space above Akaashi’s shoulders. “Why so?”

Despite not being able to see the baker, Akaashi’s skin prickled, gripping the whisk tighter as he proceeded to channel the electricity in him to the whisking process, mixing more vigorously than he was doing before. From behind him, Bokuto chuckled, grabbing his hand to stop him.

“You know, you don’t have to take it out on the butter and sugar.”

Akaashi stiffened, Bokuto retreating immediately after to take the next ingredient.

“Hey, Akaashi,” Bokuto called. Immediately, Akaashi looked up, expectant.

Only to receive a flick of flour in his face.

Bokuto stood in front of him, laughter evident on his face, fingers coated with white, powdery flour. Akaashi sighed, laughing as well, slowly approaching Bokuto.

“It’s not fair if I’m the only one with flour in my face,” he laughed, taking a slight amount of flour and flicking it at Bokuto’s hair. Bokuto babbled in complaint, taking a handful of flour in his own hand.

Instantly, Akaashi’s skin prickled, sensing the danger of the situation. By instinct or by will to live, he immediately took off, legs carrying him as fast as they possibly could. Bokuto, behind him, was laughing, streaking after him with flour in his hands.

“Don’t dump the whole thing on me!” Akaashi yelped, dodging as a slew of flour shot by his left, dodging only in time to avoid the brunt of the flour. “Kuroo-san is going to kill me if I have flour in my hair!”

“Then wash it,” Bokuto retorted, laughing as Akaashi leaped through the winding ways of the kitchen, as nimble as a cat in face of danger.

But, before Akaashi could transport himself to safety, arms wrapped around him, a puff of flour came at his face as a handful of flour ws smacked into his chest. Groaning at the mess of powdery flour on his chest, Akaashi buried his face in his hands, the sounds of bubbling mirth from Bokuto sounding loudly in the air from behind him.

“Looks like Kuroo is going to have a field day,” Bokuto laughed.

Akaashi pitifully picked at the flour, flicking some at Bokuto, who only responded with more laughter.

“Come on, we have to finish up the cookies.”

The rest of the cookie making process continued without a hitch, the only issue the lack of flour that they had as a result of their flour war. Bokuto didn’t seem to mind, though, simply taking out more flour to remeasure the ingredients they had.

Finally the cookie dough, combined and raw, sat in the bowl, a scoop in Bokuto’s hand, ready to place the raw cookie dough on the prepared parchment paper.

To Akaashi’s surprise, Bokuto stuck a finger in the dough, licking what he picked up off of his hand.

“Bokuto-san, you’ll get sick,” Akaashi pointed out, concern evident in his eyes, his heart beating fast. “There’s raw egg in it.”

Bokuto shrugged, smiling at him. “I won’t die, will I?”

Bokuto stuck a spoon into the mixture, waving around a small bit of cookie dough at Akaashi’s face. “Are you sure you don’t want to try some?”

Akaashi stared at the cookie dough suspiciously, all of Kuroo’s lessons about food safety coming into mind as he stared at the piece of cookie dough. Yet, Bokuto’s large eyes, expectantly watching Akaashi, tempted him to no end, the piece of cookie dough so tantalizing in both looks and scent.

“Fine,” Akaashi relented, taking a bite of it.

It didn’t taste far off from the cookie Bokuto had given him two days prior, yet it felt liberating to eat it, as if breaking some sort of unspoken rule gave him power. He let the flavors meld in his mouth, momentary bliss overcoming him as the sugary taste of chocolate mixed with the taste of vanilla, closing his eyes in face of the spreading flavor.

“I told you so,” Bokuto laughed, taking another bit for himself. “If you get sick, Kuroo will have my head off before you can say ‘cookie’, so I hope you won’t.”

Without another word, he slowly began to scoop cookie dough onto the parchment, hand held over Akaashi’s as he taught him how to place them on the tray properly, shaping them into tiny little lumps for it to bake evenly. It was charming, the way the tiny balls of cookie dough were lined up in little rows, something cute about the way it was all arranged.

“And the last thing to do is to put it in the oven,” Bokuto continued, scooping up the trays of cookie dough that they’d arranged, placing it into the racks of the oven. With several beeps of the button, the oven whirred to life, surroundings already hot from having been preheated.

“It’ll take ten minutes,” Bokuto announced.

The two were silent for several moments, choosing to sit on the tall stools in the kitchen as they waited for the cookies.

Bokuto was the first to break the silence. “What is it like, being a prince?”

Akaashi paused, looking at Bokuto. “Like being a normal person, just with more rules, and more lessons to attend than the average person, I suppose.”

“Do you ever get sick of the rules?” Bokuto asked, looking at Akaashi with much interest in his eyes. “Do you ever feel like you just want to break them all and run away?”

“Maybe,” Akaashi murmured, gently picking at a napkin that was on the table. “But I can’t, I suppose, the responsibility I hold is one that’s inherited, it’s not like I can really do anything about the rules that they make me follow.”

Bokuto hummed in agreement, looking up at Akaashi. “What would you do if you could do anything without any repercussions?”

“Without any repercussions?” Akaashi echoed. Immediately, a list of things he'd always wanted to do ran through his mind. “I would eat cookies every day, and learn how to cook for myself.”

“That’s the first thing you would do if there weren’t any rules?” Bokuto asked, eyes wide. “That’s it?”

“No,” Akaashi continued. “I would travel the world, run away from home and stay in a hotel for the night, just to see what it’s like to be able to stay away from home.”

_I would hug you,_ his mind whispered. _I would kiss you until I couldn’t anymore, I would run away and live a life with you._

Bokuto looked at him. “Akaashi, are you alright?”

Akaashi snapped back from his thoughts, realizing the burning of his cheeks. “I apologize. I’m… alright.”  
Bokuto looked at him, unconvinced. “Something on your mind?”

_You._

“Not… really,” Akaashi lied, ignoring the rising redness of his cheeks.

Despite the distrust on his face, Bokuto said nothing, painting on his normal, smiling expression again.

“Do you think you’ll ever be able to do all that?” Bokuto murmured, staring off, before stiffening and placing a hand over his mouth. “I apologize, that was an insensitive question.”

_I could do one of those things right now._

“It’s alright, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi murmured. “I don’t think I’ll be able to do most of them.”

Bokuto looked at him, tilting his head slightly. “Most of them? Then you can do at least one.”

Akaashi looked at Bokuto, smiling softly. “Yeah.”

“Well, let’s go do it!” Bokuto enthused. “We have 8 minutes until the cookies finish.”

“Bokuto-san, actually,” Akaashi cut in, looking at the baker in the eyes, praying his cheeks hadn’t reddened beyond comprehension. “I need your help for the first thing I want to do.”

Bokuto’s eyebrows furrowed. “My help? Do you want me to make you cookies everyday, or—”

“Can you come here?” Akashi murmured, fingers trembling in the slightest. “It might be easier to show you what I need help with.”

Bokuto nodded without question, moving towards Akaashi. 

Akaashi stood up, gently taking Bokuto’s hand into his own. Gently, he wrapped Bokuto’s arms from behind him, enveloping himself in a back hug. As he finished, Bokuto chuckled slightly, voice quiet.

“This is the first thing you want to do?” he murmured, voice gentle and low in his ear. Akaashi nodded, face red, thankful that Bokuto could see none of it.

“If you’re uncomfortable, Bokuto-san, then—”

“You’re like a book, you know, Akaashi?” Bokuto laughed, voice still barely a whisper. “It’s pretty easy to tell what you’re thinking.”

Akaashi stiffened. “Then, you—”

“Your face was red, Akaashi,” Bokuto laughed, mirth running through the air. “And you stiffened every single time I whispered in your ear; it’s pretty cute.”

Again, Akaashi stiffened, melding into the warmth of Bokuto from behind him, his hand holding Bokuto’s where they met in front of his abdomen, skin warm to the touch. Bokuto’s chin rested on his shoulder, touch gentle.

“You know Akaashi,” Bokuto suddenly said, “do you think you’re as easy to read as I say you are?”

Akaashi paused for several moments, twisting his head in the slightest to face Bokuto. “No, I don’t suppose so; Kuroo’s never caught me sneaking out of my room or lying to him.”

“That’s because Kuroo’s head is made of stone,” Bokuto snorted. “On the other hand, I can read minds.”

Akaashi laughed, lips upturned. “Sure, Bokuto-san.”

“I can!” Bokuto insisted. “I can prove it.”

“Really?”

“I can prove it,” Bokuto murmured, “by guessing your second wish.”

Bokuto gently held Akaashi’s waist, turning him around to face him. As he did, Akaashi held his breath, barely daring to breathe. Slowly, Bokuto stepped forwards, prompting Akaashi to take a step back. Another step forward, another step back.

Another step forward.

Another step—

Akaashi felt the cool surface of marble on his back, heart beating erratically as Bokuto placed his hands on the marble surface besides his waist.

Bokuto smiled, gentle. “Tell me how close I am to correct.”

Slowly, Bokuto pressed his lips on Akaashi’s own, gentle and careful. They tasted of sugary chocolate, tantalizing and soft. Akaashi pulled him closer by the waist, pressing them together, eyes shut as he let the gentle touch of lips continue, head empty as Bokuto pressed closer and closer to him. There was no brush of tongue, nothing harsh. It was a kiss in the gentlest form Akaashi could imagine, calm and unrushed.

For a moment, they parted, Bokuto smiling softly. “How close am I to right?”

Akaashi’s breaths were bated as he whispered back his reply.

“Very.”

Without hesitation, Bokuto lifted Akaashi into the air, gently placing him atop the marble countertop. In one smooth movement, he pressed their lips together again, hands holding Akaashi close. Slowly, Akaashi’s fingers found purchase in Bokuto’s hair, combing through the dual colored strands of hair, comfortable in his hands. Bokuto smiled through the kiss, gently brushing his tongue against Akaashi’s lips, pulling him closer to his own body.

The kiss continued, heated, hurried as they continued, pressing flush against each other, passionate in their ministrations. Electricity ran through Akaashi at each movement, at each tough of lips, at each grazing of teeth against his own kiss-bruised lips, completely in bliss. Bokuto’s touches across his torso, feather soft, made him lean in further into his warmth, sighing in contentment.

They broke apart after what felt like hours, Akaashi’s breaths shallow as he stared at Bokuto. His lips were read, bruised from the kiss, eyes hazy as he stared into Akaashi’s eyes.

“Second wish complete,” Bokuto smiled, threading his fingers through Akaashi’s hair. “Who knew—”

Akaashi paused, sniffing the air. “Bokuto-san, do you—”

His eyes widened. “The cookies.”

As quick as lightning, Bokuto opened the oven, eyes bugging out as he slipped on oven mitts, sliding the tray out of the oven. The cookies were lumps, miserable and burnt, almost resembling coal. At the sight of it, Akaashi’s heart dropped, the taste of the cookies he’d been imagining disappearing almost instantaneously.

“It burnt,” Bokuto groaned, placing the mitts away. “I don’t think we can eat them anymore.”

Akaashi sighed, moving through the room to stand next to Bokuto. Instinctively, Bokuto wrapped his arms around Akaashi’s waist, pressing against him in a gentle hug.

“Does that mean I get to come tomorrow night again?” Akaashi asked, mischief dancing through his tone. “I still need to have more cookies.”

Bokuto laughed, mirth running through his voice. “You, prince Akaashi, can come every night.”

And with no hesitation, Bokuto’s sugary lips met his once again.

**Author's Note:**

> aaa i hope you liked it! ngl this took ages to write so i hope it was worth it aaadjajd, kudos and comments would be appreciated!! <3


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